Cherik - Moments in Time
by MssrTragicandConsumptive
Summary: A series of memories from times when things were easier. Cherik; Hank/Raven


1)

The house wasn't the same to her anymore.

Hallways that stretched out like yawning trenches. Rooms whose doors had again been pulled shut. Lights that stayed off in the darkness of the English night.

Raven ran her fingers slowly over the granite of the kitchen counter tops. She wasn't sure how they were going to make it. How they were going to get to the next part of their lives.

"Raven?"

She looked up, her eyes fixing on Charles. He sat, hands poised over the wheels of his chair. He looked disheveled and tired, but his lips formed that kind, patient smile she always loved.

"Sorry…I couldn't sleep. Want me to set the kettle?" She was already moving to snag it from the stove.

"You know just what we need." Charles chuckled and rolled in, watching her. "I can't sleep either."

"The house is too quite." Raven murmured.

"I agree entirely." Charles' voice had a distant note to it. Raven glanced over her shoulder to see him looking out the great window to the back courtyard.

"You miss him." She said, her voice a whisper. They hadn't talked about Erik. Not once since the beach.

Charles' eyebrows came together in tight pain. His lips pulled into a thin line. "I…I do. And that troubles me."

Raven set the kettle half full on the counter beside the sink. She turned and bent over Charles, hugging him tightly.

"It's okay." She whispered. "I miss Hank too."

Raven felt Charles' fingers twist into her sweater and he trembled. His whole body shuddered with unhandled grief. The dry sob that followed shattered her heart.

"It's going to be okay." She said, voice shaking. "I…I don't know how yet, but we're strong. We're going to get through this."

Charles' only response was another shaking sob.

Raven prayed that if they ever saw Erik again, it would be because somewhere, deep down in his heart, he still cared even a fraction for Charles, as Charles did for him. It was bad enough to leave someone injured, but Erik had crippled Charles both emotionally and physically. Erik had taken absolutely everything Charles had.

The fact that Charles wasn't even angry still blew Raven's mind.

"We're going to get through this, Charles." Raven pressed his cheek to her brother's hair. "I'm always going to be here. I promise."

2)

He had kept his mother alive in his thoughts. Too alive perhaps.

She would step in and out of his dreams, or float through his consciousness like an old photograph. Something that should have started to fade in it's frame, but instead stayed burned into mind the way Shaw's fingers had burned into his flesh.

The library was quiet. He had never stopped to see it since coming to the Xavier Mansion, but tonight it was the escape he needed. The moonlight filtered in through the large windows, falling on row after row of books.

Today was a memorial. A brand worse than the one on his arm. Today was the day the bullet from Shaw's gun had gone through his mother, stealing her from him. She had died that day, but to him she was never truly gone. She was the anger, the fire, and the steel that firmed his resolve.

"Erik?"

Erik dropped the book he'd pulled from the shelf. It hit the floor with a dull thump. Charles stood, illuminated by the hallways lights from behind.

"Charles." Erik stooped and snatched the book, returning it to the shelf.

"I was wondering where you'd gone. Is everything quite alright?" Charles stepped inside, shutting the door behind him.

"I was hoping for some privacy." Erik muttered. Charles' easy smile confused him. The comfort of his anger went wobbly in the knees when Charles was around. His warmth, his patience were something Erik didn't quite know what to do with.

"I can go, if you'd prefer." Charles made a gesture to the door.

"No…" Erik hesitated. "Don't."

Charles just nodded, walking slowly to the window, standing against the moonlight. Erik's eyes flitted over the elegance of the man. His soft cheeks, strong jaw, and curling brown hair were almost fawn like. Like a Greek myth come to life.

"So what were you hiding from?" Charles turned his gaze to Erik, who blinked.

"I'm hiding from nothing." Erik growled, turning back to look at the books.

"Then why are you brooding in a dark library?" Charles chuckled. Erik swore in German.

"Listen, not everything is your business." Erik pointedly didn't look at Charles, knowing he would be able to read his expressions easily.

"It's not, but I can ask anyway." Charles' nonchalance made Erik clench and unclench his fingers.

"Today, twenty years ago, my mother was shot dead in front of me." Erik said tightly. "It's not something I care to go around sharing with others."

Erik fell silent. Charles walked over to stand next to him. "You don't have to share that grief with anyone you don't want to…but if it's not grief you're feeling, but rage your bathing in…maybe there are better ways."

"You don't know anything." Erik snarled, but stopped when his eyes met Charles'.

"I don't understand what it was like for you, Erik…but I watched Alcohol and grief for my dead father slowly suck the life out of my mother. Anger, rage…they are just blankets to hide the bodies of fear and sadness. I'd rather see you cry than obsess over the murder of a man."

Erik stared at Charles, watched his hand come up, felt his thumb wipe the tears from his cheek. Erik reached up, grabbing Charles' hand, pressing it to his face.

Charles could change his world, change his thoughts, change his entire perspective, and he didn't need to be a telepath for that.

Charles just did it. And it scared the hell out of him.

3)

When she opened the door, she wished she could magically wipe her brain clean.

"Raven!"

"Raven."

"Gnyaang!" Raven smacked her hands over her eyes and turned, only managing to smack her elbow into the door frame, which effectively left her doubled over, clutching her arm. "ow! Fuck! Charles!"

Charles had yanked the blankets up to his chin, his face scarlet and his hair mused. Erik however, was like an image of Adonis sculpted in marble. Just enough of the sheets shielded Raven from a proper flashing, and his tanned, sculpted muscles were taught from where he was half propped over Raven's poor, horrified brother.

"Sock? On door? Maybe?" Raven spluttered, managing to back out with the door handle clutched in her fingers.

Erik and Charles? Raven's brain was smoking. How had she not seen that? Charles with his bravado at the bar and hapless flirting with any undergrad he saw fit? Charles with his suave manners and sultry voice. Her brother in bed, blushing and spluttering and looking utterly bewildered?

It was bloody brilliant.

"Seriously though. Doorlocks." She said, before shutting the door and hurrying down the hall.

Charles and Erik. Raven sat down hard in an armchair by the fireplace. The embers glowered warmly against the leather. "Holy hell." She breathed out. Erik of all people would just break Charles. She was more concerned that is was _Erik_ than that he was a man. Her brother was always secretive. The wonder that he might be interested in men had crossed her mind a few times. But Erik.

Erik Lensherr was not who she wanted her brother getting tangled up with.

"You okay there?" Hank slipped into the armchair beside Raven, his expression tight with concern.

"Yeah-" Raven let out a slightly hysterical laugh. "You know, just saw things I'll never unsee."

"What?" Hank looked shocked. He was such an awkward guy. Gangly, tall, and a little bit puppy faced. Raven just loved it. She thought he was absolutely brilliant.

"My brother…and…oh god." Raven hid her face. "I can't say. I might end up with a bounty on my head."

"Erik?"

"You knew?!" Raven yanked her hands from her face to see Hank looking terribly sheepish.

"Walked in on them…uh…well, they were in the lab. It was…um." Hank's whole face went splotchy.

"Oh. _Oh_." Raven felt her own cheeks burning. "Ew. It's like…catching your parents."

"Yeah. It's exactly that." Hank shuddered. "I mean, I'm glad they're happy but…"

Raven glanced away from Hank and pulled her knees to her chest, biting at her lip. "I'm worried, Hank. I just….Erik doesn't seem like the type to stick around. I'm worried for Charles. He loves hard."

Hank stayed quiet. Raven snuck a look at him. He was staring at the fire, his expression seemed to age him.

"I guess we'll just have to wait and see." He murmured.

4)

Was it the knock that had woken him?

Charles tried to process the sound around the thick pull of sleep. His eyes adjusted to the room, the present, and then he heard it again. A light tap on the door. Charles sat up, the comforter falling to his hips. He always slept in t-shirts, but the cool of the early spring night bit through the fabric. "Hello?"

There were three long ticks of the clock on the wall, and then the door handle turned and opened slowly, revealing Erik. He looked a mixture of embarrassment and shaken fear. Charles' first thought was that maybe a bad call had come from the CIA.

"Charles…I'm sorry…can I come in?" Erik shuffled. He wore a long-sleeved shirt and checkered red flannel bottoms that his ankles jutted from. Just a little too short for his long legs.

"Is everything alright?" Charles asked, grogginess making his alarm apparent. Erik shut the door, nodding quickly.

"I'm sorry, everything is okay…I…" Erik froze to the floor, hugging his arms tight over his chest. "Couldn't sleep."

Charles could make out Erik's red face in the darkness. He wasn't sure why Erik had come to his room, and hopefulness was making him careless. He patted the bed beside him.

Erik shuffled over and sat on the bed.

"Do your dreams keep your up?" Charles asked, wondering if maybe _he_ was dreaming.

"Unfortunately." Erik said stiffly. He looked so painfully awkward, his shoulder taught and his back perfectly straight.

Charles felt his heart thrumming against his chest.

"You…you can sleep here if you…you want." His voice broke and he cleared his throat.

Erik caught Charles' gaze. They said nothing, hanging suspended on a single breath. Finally, Erik moved. He shifted his legs to the bed, lying down slowly. Charles settled beside him, their faces inches apart.

"I've…never done this." Erik whispered. He looked self-conscious and vulnerable. Charles found one of his hands, wrapping his fingers around it.

"Neither have I." Charles said quietly.

He had lain beside someone in be before.

But he'd never fallen in love.

5)

Reluctantly, he handed over the key.

"You have to trust me." Erik was grinning. When Erik grinned it was a bit like being told you were jumping out of a plane, exhilarating and terrifying.

"I do trust you." Charles mumbled, though the lack of car keys in his fingers made his heart pound.

Erik handed him the motorcycle helmet. Charles stared down at, his reflection mirroring his worried expression right back at him.

"You have to put it on, Charles." Erik chuckled, already buckling his helmet under his chin. Charles made a sour face and jammed the helmet onto his head.

"You know, I really just don't know how I feel about being so exposed, and just…" He watched Erik mount the bike in one smooth motion that made something low in his belly twist. Erik made everything dangerous look so damn good. It made Charles want to swear.

"Get on behind me." Erik extended a hand. Charles wanted to pitch himself back in the direction of his car. Instead he took Erik's hand.

He mounted the bike awkwardly, nearly falling off it entirely as he avoided the heat of the exhaust pipe. He fitted himself in against Erik's back. Erik reached down and caught Charles' hands, wrapping them around his stomach. Charles' face burned hot.

"What? Feeling shy now?" Erik teased, his voice low.

"If you get us killed, so help me-" Charles muttered.

"You're cute when you're angry." Erik chuckled, and revved the bike.

A moment later they were flying over the pavement and off onto the country roads, the hills and flowers flashing by in a mix of brilliant colors. Charles could feel the engine's vibration in his teeth and he pressed himself completely flush to Erik, a cry of anxious exhilaration catching in his throat.

Erik took a sharp turn and Charles knew that this was what Erik lived for. That wild run of adrenaline and excitement. He lived like he did everything, with bright, vivid passion.

Charles had to admit, it was pretty damn sexy.

6)

They had to work together, so they were going to have to learn to get along.

Charles eyed Erik's guarded expression from across the table. It had only been six hours since they had pulled him from the bay, and Charles had never seen someone so hellbent on slipping out of sight and away from a group.

The fact of the matter was, they needed Erik. Charles needed another mutant who wasn't freshly out of a frat. Someone with life experience and a grasp on the tangible world. He needed someone who had more practical life experience than he did. And that was terrifying.

Erik caught his gaze and frowned so sharply that Charles made a face.

This wasn't going to be easy.

"Guys? Can you please stop scowling at each other for ten minutes?" Moira crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair, looking very much like a displeased mother.

"Sorry, what were you saying?" Charles tried to focus on Moira's game plan.

"I was saying, that we need to find out if there are more mutants. Hank has a solution, but I think it might help us if we had a little more fire power." She looked between them.

"We'll need to think about this, Moira." Charles said, scowling a bit. "Erik is the only other Mutant I have met even close to my age, and that could pose a problem. Raven is extremely mature, and level headed, but I do worry that others her age might be scared, possibly angry."

"I understand that." Moira nodded. "But the CIA needs your help-" Moira was cut off by Erik standing and walking to the door.

"Where are you going?" Charles arched an eyebrow.

"I thought, perhaps instead of talking of a species round up, I'd go have a cup of coffee." Erik said smoothly, and then was out the door.

Charles felt his temper flare and he had to grip the arms of his chair to keep a level head. "He-he is so—so _difficult_."

"I'm noticing." Moira snorted. "Think he'll stick around?"

"He has to." Charles growled, standing.

"Does he? Are you going to make him?" Moira arched an eyebrow.

"Moira, no one will ever be able to _make_ that man do anything." Charles said, and couldn't help the little half smile of fascination that worked over his face.

Moira didn't miss either, judging by her expression. Charles shrugged helplessly and went out the door after Erik.

7)

As soon as she walked in, she felt the tension filling the room.

Hank stood at one end of the lab, and Havoc stood at the other. They were stock still, anger filling both of their expressions like hot air in a balloon. Banshee was lingering back, looking like this was entirely too much effort to care about.

"Hank?" Raven frowned.

"Not now." Hank scowled. "This is serious."

"You guys can't—can't fight. If you break something in here, Charles will be furious." Raven knew it was a weak argument. She knew that if Havoc really wanted a fight, breaking some beakers wasn't on his top priority list.

"Just—stay out of it, Raven." Havoc muttered. "I can't deal with this."

"Raven, Havoc says the Beatles suck." Hank looked at Raven.

Raven's head whipped around to Havoc, and she shrugged her sweater off. "What?"

"So…tell me again how this happened?" Charles said slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose. Havoc was sitting on the counter, holding a bag of frozen peas to the brilliant bruise that was start around his eye.

"He said the Beatles suck." Raven replied. She was holding a bag of frozen broccoli to her knuckles, but she looked utterly pleased.

"And that merited punching him in the face?" Charles asked, bewildered.

"Yes." Hank and Raven answered in unison.

"Nice right hook." Havoc nodded, grinning. "Lost fair and square."

"No one insults the Beatles on my watch." Raven smirked.

8)

The urge to interrupt him before he had finished was overwhelming.

Charles had never seen anyone make washing the dishes look so sexy. Erik's arms flexed as he worked the sponge, his tight turtleneck clung to his pecks, which rippled with the easy effort. Charles had been staring, tea cup half to his mouth for nearly four solid minutes.

"Charles, is there a reason you are staring at me?" Erik chuckled, not even looking at Charles as he set one of the last plates on the drying rack.

Charles nearly dropped his tea cup on the counter. He had switched to Erik's ass, which was a sin in good fitting slacks.

"I'm not staring." Charles managed, thought it lacked any conviction.

"Mhhmm." Erik switched off the tap, looking over at Charles. "Is that why your face is so red?"

"My face isn't red." Charles muttered, carefully returning the cup to its saucer.

Erik sauntered over, towel in hand, and leaned against the other side of the counter. He stopped an inch or so from Charles' face. "Do you like what you see?"

Charles made a sound. It was a sort of dying inside squeak. Like someone stepping on the world's smallest mouse.

Erik set the rag down on the countertop and reached up, tracing the line of Charles' cheekbone, then smoothed his fingers over Charles' lips.

"Tell me, what is more sexy? Dirty plates? Or dirty cups?" Erik smirked.

"Stop teasing me." Charles growled from around Erik's fingers.

"Why not? You're adorable when you're flustered." Erik caught Charles' chin and leaned in, kissing him soundly. Charles felt his mind melt, and he leaned deeply into Erik's pull. It was like a black hole. Once the gravity caught him, he was just sucked in.

Erik leaned forward slowly until Charles let out a little growl. "Bugger the dishes, I'll do them in the morning." He yanked on Erik's shirt. Erik pulled away, gleeful pleasure sparkling in his eyes.

"Oh no. No. You have to wait. Patience, Charles. You can't just have whatever you want." Erik said, walking back to the sink slowly.

"You." Charles fumed. "You—you, _you._ "

9)

It was just for one night.

That was what he told himself the first time. The first time Erik slept in his bed. The first time he had seen the other man so vulnerable.

It was just for one night.

He had told himself fervently when Erik undid the buttons of his trousers, his mind a hot mess of attraction and desperate need.

It was just for one night.

He begged himself as he cried into Erik's shoulder after telling him of his step father, of his broken childhood and broken life.

It was just for one night.

Until it wasn't.

One night turned into two, three, twenty. The more of those "one nights" passed, the more he fell. Fell into madness, fell madly in love.

Those nights wrapped him in a world of love he had craved so deeply. He knew he was playing with fire. He knew Erik wasn't going to stay. He knew Erik would get bored, decide having another person in his life was too much work. Too much effort. Too much risk.

It was just for one night.

He told himself as he curled into Erik's empty bed, tears streaking his face, heart shredding to painful, bleeding pulp in his chest.

It was just for one night.

He sobbed to himself, as every memory of a love that had left him raw and ruined rocked over him like waves on a beach.

It was just for one night.

Just one night.


End file.
